Problems of Single Fathers
by Sauri
Summary: Minato Namikaze survives the fatidic night. Now, he has to juggle between his roles as father, as Hokage and as prospect fighter for a war that might be brewing in the dark corners of history. The surprise comes from discovering fatherhood is the most taxing of the three. Chaos ensues.
1. Of Sacrifices

**Problems of Single Fathers**

 _Minato Namikaze survives the fatidic night. Now, he has to juggle between his role as father, as Hokage and as prospect fighter for a war that might be brewing in the dark corners of history. The surprise comes from discovering fatherhood is the most taxing of the three. Chaos ensues.  
_

 **I.**

Kushina Uzumaki choked on her own blood. She never thought being impaled with her husband by the same monster she had imprisoned in her body would be the way she'd die. If Kushina had a knack for black humor, she might have laughed at the irony of the situation. Except she did not have such inclinations and, more pressingly, she was busy trying to convince her husband not to die.

"Minato, stop being a dunce!" she shouted. "You don't have to do the seal; I'm perfectly capable of that!"

The angry roars of the Kyuubi behind them and the desperate crying of their infant Naruto in front almost deafened her words. The ground shook bellow them as the beast stomped, the chains holding it clanging at its efforts to freedom. Kushina winced, her chakra being pulled in from within and her last remaining strengths depleting at alarming rate.

"Or maybe not," Minato said calmly. He was heaving. His body, maybe not as tattered as hers, still crumbling. His weaning focus barely managed to summon the altar needed for the sealing. "Your spirit splintered when the Kyuubi was extracted from you, and the sealings requires a whole soul. The Shinigami might not accept yours."

Her resulting scoff was bloody. "That's hypothetical guesswork!"

"This isn't the time for marital arguments," Minato gritted. "We're both dying and I need to do something before that!"

"This is exactly the time for marital arguments," Kushina bellowed back. "And you might not die! Tsunade-sama is in the village, she can treat your wounds if you just let me do the seal!"

"Kushina, I can't bet on that," he said. "Not when so much—so many lives—are at stake and I'm the Hokage."

Kushina inhaled through her teeth. Her lungs throbbed. She leveled her gaze on Minato's profile: his jaw set, the wrinkles of worry—a leftover mark of many acquired in the Third War—ceasing his skin, and his harsh blue eyes veiled the sorrow and the shame she knew to be mirrors of hers. A personal sacrifice—their life as parents, their son's happiness, their possible future—was nothing but pond rocks against the waves of the need of the masses. Tears stung the corner of her eyes.

Duty and love never messed well, she'd been told. Hokage wasn't just a profession, it was a lifestyle, Biwako Sarutobi, now dead to duty, warned her when the Fourth Hokage was proclaimed. There are sacrifices to be made down that particular road, always.

Kushina cursed. She'd knew but had dared to hope. She still did. Minato, she still believed, could prove her right.

 _You may not be able to bet_ , Kushina thought ruefully, _but I can._

"Minato," she said. She smiled to herself. She hoped Minato could see the smile in her words. "I love you. I really do."

It might have been selfish. It might also have been stupid. This might have been, she thought in a moment of lucidity, why she never became Hokage herself. Kushina did not care. With the little strength she could muster, she took advantage of her position behind him and his surprise at her words to aim a clean strike to his spine. She watched as Minato passed out, body dangling forward.

Naruto's cries rocketed in volume.

"Shush, Naruto," she cooed. "It's okay. It's okay. Mommy's still here."

It took effort to stand still as the Kyuubi trashed, pulling and pushing. It took effort to bring her hands close together for the chain of seals necessary to do the unthinkable to her son. It took effort to talk, to breathe, to think. It took effort to live a bit longer, too, but Kushina did it anyway. She had to.

"I wish… I wish it hadn't been like this," she said, breathless. "I wish I could hold you one last time, but daddy's going to be there for you so he can do it for me. And there's so much I want to tell you… Oh, so much…" She winced while coughing blood and bile. "I hope— I hope you grow up well and strong, so eat lots and bath every day and study… although I can't really comment on the last. I hope you make good friends—few that you can trust are enough… And don't fall to the Three Prohibition for a shinobi… And find a good woman, like me, who will love you and you'll love… And listen to your daddy, he'll be there even when you're pain and sad and care for each other and… and…"

Her voice wavered. Tear stroke down her cheeks. Her fingers formed the last handseal for the ritual.

"Above all, I want to tell you I love you."

A mark appeared in her son's belly. Kushina recognized it for what it was and sighed in relief when she saw it complete and well formed. She slumped against her inert husband's back and watched an apparition took form in front of her. Bone white clothes, ash gray skin, a face so disfigured and twisted it reminded her of the Noh masks of her homeland, and a presence that was all-encompassing and all-powerful in the way it could drain the life of every corner of her being and their surroundings.

The Shinigami, there to reclaim her soul.

"Take it," she whimpered. Behind her, once her chakra depleted to nothing, the Kyuubi roared as her chains disappeared. Her hand curled around her husband's cape. "Please, take it. It might not be whole anymore but it's still my soul. _Please._ "

The Shinigami hovered over her, immobile. For one dreadful moment, Kushina thought the god wouldn't accept it—her soul. A searing sob wrecked her body. She had utterly failed not only Minato or Konoha, but also Naruto. For that one moment, despair took over her.

She looked down. Bellow the god's ethereal form, she could distinguish twin blond spots. At the very least, Kushina thought as the black spots on her vision took over the world, her last sight would be of the two men she loved most in the world.

And then, the Shinigami lunged.

. . .

Minato Namikaze woke up to blinding white and pain. He groaned, eyes scrunched shut as the fog of his mind thickened. It was hard work to make sense of anything, as if every neuron and cell of his body had gone on overdrive and were somersaulting over each other. The blackness was swirling, and the pain crossed every muscle and fiber. Eventually, though, something resembling coherency settled over the thrumming of his brain. At first, the world was nothing but sensations: he could hear a beeping sound, smell the antiseptics in the air and touch soft fabric. Then, through everything else, memories stampeded forward: the stranger who attacked them, the consequent Kyuubi running rampant, Kushina and him dying while protecting their son and—

 _I love you. I really do._

Minato gasped in surprise, eyes wide open to face, besides a terrible headache, what he knew to be a hospital room and a head full of white, spiky hair.

"Awake, finally," Jiraya the Toad Sannin said. He was perched on a stool next to a bed—Minato's bed. He looked older and somber and tired. "Not that I blame you with the wounds you had."

"Irgh…"

His throat constricted around the words, as if someone had dared to shove as much sand as they could through it. The pain multiplied, white spots in the corner of his vision danced. Minato winced and groaned.

"You've been out of it for almost a month, kid," Jiraya said. "Take it easy."

Jiraya helped him sat on the bed, handed a glass of water and pushed a button next to him. It had been long since Minato saw his teacher act so carefully, so unlike him. It made him, somehow, uncomfortable though not ungrateful. He heaved an exhale, taking a mouthful of water before regretting it. It cleansed his throat, of course, but it also felt like needles piercing his skin from inside out.

"Month…?" he managed to rasp.

"Well, not entirely. You'd been waking up the last two weeks, but not really lucid," Jiraya said. "Stomach impalement, heavy blood loss and extreme chakra exhaustion are not things to be easily shaken off."

Minato nodded idly. His brain was still trying to catch up, but the sounds of Kushina's last words and Naruto's crying before he'd blacked out had haunted all the way from his dreams.

"Kushina?" he rasped again. "Naruto?"

Whenever Jiraya had nothing but bad news he didn't wish to give, Minato'd learnt, his only telltale sign would be the thinning of his lips. It didn't take more than a second for fear to swell at the base of his stomach as Minato witnessed the slight whitening of his teacher's upper lip. The world swayed to the side, the lights dimming and his vision tunneling into a spot on the wall. Before panic could definitely settle in his bones, though, the door opened. Tsunade Senju trotted in, medical records in hand and a stern look only found on doctor's on duty adorning her deceivably joyful face.

She stopped for a second, taking in the scene with sharp and equally tired eyes, and sighed.

"You shouldn't be interrogating my patient, Jiraya," was all she said before approaching them. She set to a medical check with little more than an uneasy smile and 'how do you feel'.

"He's the one with the questions, Princess," Jiraya retorted half-heartily. He took a shuddering breath before facing Minato fully. "Naruto's well. He's in the next room, being watched over a nurse and three ANBU 24/7."

"He weighs 2'7 kilograms and is 48'3 centimeters tall. A bit less than the average for boys but undeniably healthy," Tsunade added, her hand on his pulse. She hesitated before adding, "Congratulations."

"The Eight Trigrams Seal is also stable. I checked as soon as I got here two weeks ago," Jiraya said. "The Kyuubi's been successfully sealed off."

Minato gripped onto the water glass. His mouth twisted in pain. He didn't dare look at anyone, fixated in the tubes going into his right arm.

"Kushina…did it…?"

"Yes." Jiraya said, voice heavy and dull. "I'm sorry."

"Ah."

This time the world didn't crash; rather, it came into focus. It was worse. The colors sharpened, the details he'd been too tired to notice now clear. He could distinguish the expressions on the two Sannin better, concerned and with grief. He could also notice the wound of his stomach with renewed clarity. And unhealed few scratches on his arms. And his chest, where was no injury but still hurt at his heart's every beat.

This world—this story— was real, and it was undeniable.

His son was a jinchuriki and his wife was no more.

It was irreversible. Finite.

Another glass filled with a lame white liquid invaded his field of vision. Minato stared.

"Drink," Tsunade ordered. His answer was automatic. It tasted like medicine. "Hiruzen will be taking over as Hokage for the time being. You're relieved until recovery. You'll heal well, there was no irreversible harm to any system, but it will take time and rest." Her sentences were punctuated by scrawls on her documents. She only looked up at the end, her honey eyes assuaging, almost pitying but not quite, much like all the other professional doctors he'd ever met. "Take that time to be with Naruto."

Minato nodded futilely. His thoughts scrambled. It was strange. Usually, ideas and opinion always bombarded him nonstop—a never-ending parade of feelings and notions that would hold him awake until late hours of the morning. Now, there, everything was unfamiliarly empty, like wading through thick, dark waters with no land in sight.

There was a part of him that felt sluggish, lethargic and whispered him to lay down and sleep again—perhaps forever. The bigger part, however, screamed at him for something else.

"May I see my son?" he asked.

Tsunade gazed him critically. Her mouth pursed. "I'll bring him to you," she said.

Once she had left, Jiraya's stance shagged. The edge on his shoulder banishing under the weight of his worry. He levelled a look that was in equal amount shame and resignation.

"I had been poking around," he said carefully. "No one knows what truly happened that night, but I'll bet it was no simple accident of birth, was it?"

Minato gulped, the words slow in taking form, an unmade puzzle one had to decipher.

"No. We… We were attacked," he said. He saw the Sannin ready another question. A shake of his head stopped him. "It wasn't Iwa, nor Kumo."

"That's worse," Jiraya lamented. "An unknown enemy's always worse."

"I'm…" Minato frowned. He knew he was _something_ , but he couldn't pinpoint the sentiment. Sorry, perhaps, for not knowing better? "I'm—"

"I know," Jiraya interrupted. "It's alright."

It wasn't, but the platitude was welcome. So was the calloused hand on his shoulder. It helped to ground him. It helped to feel more than just empty.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Give you some time while I report to my dear teacher in the meantime." Jiraya gave one last squeeze, stood up, headed to the window and shot a shaky smile in his student's direction. "Take care."

Minutes later, Tsunade came back with a soft pink bundle in her arms. In it, Minato found the sleeping form of his son. He was a restless sleeper if the way his limbs spammed every minute was anything to go by. That almost made him laugh.

"I give you half an hour," Tsunade said not unkindly. "You still need rest."

Minato watched her go, the door softly clicking shut, before his full attention fixed on the small baby in his trembling arms.

"Hey, Naruto," he said. He was ashamed to admit the words broke midway. "I'm very happy to see you again."

He traced the three pairs of marks on each cheek, a side effect, he mused, of being the son of a jinchuriki himself. Otherwise, he looked healthy. Minato hadn't been able to take a good look at his son the night he was born, but now he did, he noticed. The skin was rosy, the belly full enough. He breathed in and out without issue. There was a tuff of blond, spiky hair atop his head he had to inherit from his father. The high cheeks of a healthy redder color, too, Minato noticed, were his. The boy's lids fluttered for a moment and behind them Minato recognized the sky-blue eyes he himself was well-known for.

On the other hand—

He also had his mother's round face, and her button nose, and her wide eyes—all of them coming together in a perfect cacophony that screamed of Kushina, painfully familiar and pretty and _gone_.

 _I love you. I really do._

Minato hold onto his son tighter, almost desperately, and cried.

. . .

The funeral was private. The day was cloudy and the mood somber. Not many people attended. Too many were still nursing their wounds or dead or working so the fragile stability Konoha stand on didn't crumble down at the wake of their village's greatest tragedy. Minato was at the front, bounded to wheelchair for the time being with Naruto in his arms and wide breath of empty air around them.

There was no body in the casket. It'd been cremated long ago next to the rest of the deceased that numbered in the hundred. Minato understood the reasons—a month was a long time to keep a corpse without wasting resources much needed elsewhere—, but some part of him still lamented there was no body to say goodbye to. The ceremony was, therefore, mostly for himself.

Naruto had cried, and cried, and cried until there was nothing to cry about at the end.

"At least the twerp has a good set of lungs," Jiraya said. He fondly petted his godson's head and chuckled to himself.

"He does," Minato conceded. The last two nights he had insisted on taking care of him himself only to wake up in the middle of the night to a crying babe. It was disorienting and tiring given his condition. Minato still insisted. He studied the gear his once jounin leader wore. "You're leaving already."

"Yes," Jiraya said. "If what you told was true, something or someone's started moving. And if they almost succeeded already, that's no good for us. We need to prepare."

Minato nodded. That did not surprise him. It was expected.

"Our dear Senju Princess, though," Jiraya continued, "has decided to stay around even when things settle."

That, however, did surprise him.

"Really?"

"Yep. Surprising, right?" Jiraya laughed. "Woman has no attachment to this village or the Senju legacy anymore, but I think this time it'd hit too close to home with some random attacker shitting all over her grandfather's work."

Minato scowled. "Language."

"He isn't two months old, Minato."

"Children start developing their language skills since their birth and even before," he said. "I read it somewhere."

"Uh. One learns something every day." Jiraya patted him in the back. Knowing him, he probably didn't particularly care. "Anyway, I'll come by when I can. With more intel if lucky."

"Please, do," Minato breathed. His legs itched. Naruto was getting restless. Somewhere, the enemy was regrouping. His teacher—practically family—was leaving. All around, it wasn't the best day. He glanced at the memorial. It could be worse, he guessed. "I will try to get back on my feet by then."

Jiraya grunted. "I wouldn't expect less from you."

The proceeding moment was familiarly calm, even if subdued, Minato thought. Years of knowing each other made the silences matter—like a blanket in a cold night. The day could have ended like that and, Minato believed, it'd have been as worthy as saying anything. Pity was, then, that there was always something to discuss, to worry, to question about.

"How do you feel about the Old Man's Secrecy Law?"

Minato couldn't say he hadn't expected it. He did. He had just willfully ignored it.

"It's the best method to avoid giving Iwa and Kumo a new reason to rekindle the war when we are in such weakened state," he recited. It was easy. He'd thought about this long and hard. He had repeated those words until he convinced himself. "If they discovered the Kyuubi was not only sealed in a child, but a child who's also their worst enemy's son, they would surely do something dangerous if only for revenge."

Jiraya exhaled, hands massaging his nape. "That's not all I meant."

Minato hummed. The silence stretched. In the distance, crows cowed to the setting sun. Naruto stirred against him, trying to find the most comfortable position in his hold. Minato faintly smiled at him.

"…I have noticed," he said eventually, hesitantly, "how some have been… reluctant when Naruto is around." There had been no mistreatments, much less outright abuse, of course—only hesitation tempered by the trust people had on him, who proclaimed there was no reason for concern. And they always came around, with time. Still. Behind the curtains, the obvious stared at him. "People are afraid of him and the Law's to stop any rumors from escalating, isn't it?"

"The people have been reminded of the horrors not seen since the days of the Warring States," Jiraya said solemnly. "And fear, if unchecked, can breed into hatred. Naruto's just an easy target—easy to see him as the beast rather than the jailer."

"Which means I have my work cut out for me," Minato said. It was a harsh admission to make. The village he swore to protect wary and fearful of his own son and he needing to make heads of it on top of everything else. Harsh, but steps needed to take. "I know. That won't stop me."

Jiraya's face softened, the wrinkles around his eyes making him look, somehow, livelier. His big hand settled on Naruto's head, the act almost grandfatherly, then on Minato's. Sometimes, the old man tended to forget his student was no greenhorn boy anymore.

"No, it won't," he said gently. "If there was something good Kushina instilled in you is her sheer stubbornness."

The grin bloomed without bidding before quickly wilting away. "She did."

"She was an incredible woman." Jiraya's voice was wistful, almost nostalgic, and it sounded wrong when talking about Kushina who had been alive, in Minato's memory, just a couple of days ago.

He closed his eyes.

"She was."

* * *

 **A/N:** Despite what this chapter may make you think, this is going to be a lighthearted, feel good fic overall, sometimes even humorous (or my version of humor anyway). It's just the beginning point is a rather bleak moment in the story.

Also, as witnessed in this chapter, I don't care much for the finer points of canon. I just wanted to give Minato a better reason to sacrifice himself than 'lol I wanna' so I did, half-assed as it may be.


	2. Bias, Ramen and Promises

**II.**

Minato was discharged from the hospital one month later after waking up. The rehabilitation process had been painfully slow and Tsunade unforgiving on her treatment. Physical tests to recover his muscles mass had left him panting and the mental exams with headaches that would last the day. The worst, though, were the medicaments. Pills to stabilize any inconsistencies in his body, liquids to gain any nutrients lacking and an injection once—he abhorred injections—, all so he could fare by himself but not go back to duty.

"Everything seems luckily in order," Tsunade'd said. "Although your stomach tissues are still recovering. You must be careful about that. Light meals only and don't overextend yourself. Very basic physical training and no jutsu until I say otherwise. I _will_ notice if you don't follow."

The malicious glint in her eyes had put any idea of training away.

Minato didn't like hospital or doctors much. He didn't like the two months of clearance ahead of him either. It made him feel useless, especially when Konoha needed him most. Still, he guessed, he could use the time to address other, more personal problems.

He opened the door to his house. Naruto gurgled happily, as if he knew he had left the horrid hospital behind and was now entering a territory he could lord over. Minato didn't begrudge him. It had been long since they got home—in Naruto's case he had only known it for the barest of moments—, but Minato couldn't say he had missed it. Or, rather, he couldn't say he was ready to face the truth of empty bed, now ownerless objects and the painful process of classifying the useless, the useful and the memories worth keeping he would have to trudge through in a home marked to its very core by Kushina. She had always done that. She would come and left her mark whether you wanted it or not and then leave.

What Minato found, instead, was a home oddly spotless. No furniture was out of place, floors shined clean and no dust gathered in the corners after two months of negligence.

Minato frowned. The entrance seals hadn't been tempered with. There were no signs of breaking in either, and only a handful of people were given authorization to enter without setting the alarms off, which meant—

"Kakashi."

"Sensei."

Minato turned around to find his student at the doorstep, geared in his ninja attire and a dog mask perched on one side of his head.

"I heard you were promoted to ANBU."

"Yes, there were… vacancies." There were dead people and the empty slots left behind that needed filling, he meant. He straightened, head held high, but eyes fixated in a point beyond. "I apologize for… not attending Kushina-san's funeral. I was assigned a mission in the skirts."

So formal, Minato thought, all taut and careful. He smiled bitterly. "This is Naruto," he said, nudging him. He had entertained himself by playing with the laces on his father's jacket. "I hope you two'll get along."

"I've met him," Kakashi said. "I saw him barfing on Rat when the nurse fed him." He took Naruto's little hand between his fingers. "Hello again."

Naruto looked at the stranger with big, awed eyes and promptly decided he wanted to play with his new toy. He clutched onto Kakashi's index finger and pulled with all the strength a babe could muster while gurgling happily. Minato had learned, not long after he started to share the room with his son, that Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze never stayed still and his attention only lasted for as long as the next shiny object took to appear in his vision field.

Tsunade had laughed when she found him trying to feed his son without much success and smirked. "Be wary, Minato. Once your spawn learns how to crawl you'll be done for," she'd said.

In the present, Minato said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sensei," Kakashi said with a noncommittally shrug.

Minato hummed and headed to the kitchen, followed by Kakashi's light steps. He checked the fridge, which was empty, and then the shelves, which were filled with expired instant food and ramen. He avoided the pink apron with flowers and the chair with craved swirls Kushina had brought from Uzugakure.

"How has ANBU been treating you?"

"Fine," Kakashi simply said. When Minato sent a pointed glance, he added, "Frog's my assigned supervisor. There are lots of missions."

Minato snorted. Of course there were. He could even bet having him there, with him in his home, was probably part of a supervision mission assigned by Hiruzen. He didn't mind that. He could trust Kakashi with his life. He knew that; Kakashi knew that too. What he didn't trust was if his student was biting more than he could chew by joining the elite squadron at the tender age of 14. The ANBU did not only require physical abilities, of which Kakashi had plenty, but also mental fortitude. He still remembered the late-night conversations with Kushina about his increasing worries about his student's psyche—since Obito's dead Kakashi had been moody and temperamental and guilty all in one. Then, when Rin died, he had slammed any doors to his person shut and locked by key, Minato and that new friend he made with the weird haircut being the sole exceptions and sometimes not even that.

"Well, I hope you still come by whenever you can. I'd appreciate it," he said. Naruto made himself known by slamming a tiny fist against his chest. "Naruto'll appreciate it too. In fact, want to help me grocery shopping?"

Kakashi's only visible eye squinted. "Should you not make yourself at home first, sensei?"

Minato shrugged. His eyes skirted over the kitchen—over the apron and the chair and the ramen.

"I can do that later," he said. Procrastination had never been in his dictionary, true. It was unlike him. But Kushina's essence staring back at him at every corner may have suffocated him. Perhaps he had no right to judge Kakashi. "Let's go."

. . .

The streets of Konoha were bustling with vendors and constructors and passing civilians. The roofs and the shadows were patrolled by the shinobi of Konoha, some even present in everyone's periphery. Minato strolled through the main street, with Naruto secured in his front, blessedly peacefully asleep, and Kakashi at his side. Civilians had, for the most part, saluted and smiled shakily and gave their condolences. The brave ones had even approached him, wondering if he was back to his feet and, underneath that, asking if they were safe.

It was exhausting but needed. After two months of absence with minimal public apparition, Minato knew they needed reassurance from their leader, relegated as he may have been. Besides, he appreciated their concerns.

What he didn't appreciate were the lingering looks on the bundle on his chest before snapping back to his face. It wasn't curiosity what marred their face; it was apprehension.

"It was worse before," Kakashi whispered after the latest woman left. She had fidgeted at seeing Naruto and gave a half-hearted excuse that had to sound fake even to herself. "Sandaime-sama's Law has stopped the worst gossip from spreading."

Minato nodded. That was good. It meant things wouldn't escalate. Although it also meant people were still scared, they just weren't allowed to talk about it. Kakashi's taciturn expression didn't help either.

"But it didn't stop them completely," Minato said. "There's more, isn't it?"

Kakashi hesitated. For a second, he looked like the fourteen-year-old he was when he avoided eye contact. "There's still gossip," he said. "And some in the ANBU guess some of it comes from the same source."

"Which is?"

"Root," Kakashi answered. "Danzo."

Minato pursed his lips. Of course. Who else had anything to gain from this scheme?

Danzo Shimura'd been a thorn in their side since times immemorial. Obsessive and paranoid, he offered plan after ploy of dubious morals to increase Konoha's standing military's might, not the least of which included his attempts at weaponizing Kushina as the jinchuriki of the Kyuubi and create a group of child soldiers deprived of emotional support. Minato didn't like him. No one did, truly, not even Hiruzen who only kept the old warlord in the Council with Homura and Koharu out of some misguided feeling of nostalgia. That, and because despite all, the man was _effective_. He may not have the public opinion in his favor, but he did stand on the Daimyo's good grace, somehow, and ensured weapons, research and technologies Konoha wouldn't be privy to otherwise, although Minato and many others doubted the sources from which Danzo acquired those.

A necessary evil, some said.

More evil than necessary, Kushina'd proclaimed before ranting on how the man looked more like a mummy than a human being. Minato tended to agree to both.

"I see," he said. It was clever. Danzo isolated Naruto early while also discrediting Minato. Worse yet, there was little he could do without factual proofs to back up the claim other than rumors among the ranks. "Could you keep an ear out for me in the meantime?"

"Of course," Kakashi said promptly.

Minato grimaced slightly. Another mission was hardly what Kakashi needed at the moment. His shoulders had been stiff since he appeared at his doorsteps. Maybe acting normal for the untrained eyes, but Minato hadn't missed the way in which his student kept drifting around in search for threats in the dark corners and tensed at agenda laden people and kept his word selection even more selective than usual. It was obvious Hiruzen had sent Kakashi to shadow him. Minato wondered if, in his own way, the Sandaime had assigned Kakashi with this mission so he could unwind too.

Well, he'd failed. Instead, Kakashi was now saddled with a mission Minato would not trust anyone else to carry out to its fulfillment. It was a conundrum. It was what had to be done. That was what ninja were about, doing what needed to be done. Dying was what had to be done, too, in that fatidic night.

Except he had been wrong then.

"Let's get ramen," Minato said instead, shaking away the bad aftertaste of those thoughts. "My treat."

Kakashi frowned. "It's not nece—"

"It is."

Ichiraku Ramen hadn't changed an ounce—homely and in need of fixing but warm and flooded in noodle smell that made one's mouth water in anticipation. Minato was grateful for that. Teuchi hadn't changed either and waved his old costumers with a flourish and a polite 'take a seat'.

"And the prodigal son's back," Teuchi said even before they'd entered the establishment. "The usual? It's on the house."

Minato accepted. He seated Naruto on his lap. Kakashi raptly watched them both and hesitantly pocked the child on the cheek, who happily cooed at the attention. When Teuchi came back with their orders everything was fine. They thanked the cook for the meal. The food was, as always, delicious. The atmosphere felt light.

When Teuchi stood there, silent, even after they had their third bite, Minato knew something was amiss.

"Is something the problem?" Kakashi asked.

The man's gaze flickered from the child who had decided chewing on hard wood was his newest pastime to the father. "No," he said. "But I need answers."

"What for?" Kakashi prompted.

"Why?" Minato asked.

Teuchi steeled.

"I have a daughter too. You've met her." Minato had. Ayame was sweet and polite and liked to gossip. She had lost her front tooth last he came to Ichiraku. It had probably long grown back. "She never saw blood until that night. Now she has recurring nightmares, afraid the big fox monster will come to eat her too," Teuchi said. His eyes were dark, his voice somber. "I worry about her. And I want to tell her the fox won't come back while believing it too."

Minato pursed his lips and sighed. It was to be expected, one guessed, for the common people to be uncomfortable at the idea of the beast that killed hundreds to be standing next to them. Except it wasn't and it shouldn't. Unfairness and blindness shouldn't become the people he'd sworn to protect, and it certainly shouldn't affect anyone's opinion of Naruto who was, even now, slamming down a rythmless tune with a toothless smile. Monsters didn't look like that. Minato should know. He had seen them even in human form.

At least, though, Teuchi was willing to ask and listen. That was a comfort if there was any to be found. Minato'd always liked that about the man.

"The information pertaining the sealing of a bijuu is classified," he said carefully. "If you understand."

"I do, but I don't need the details," Teuchi pressed. "A general idea's enough."

"You're aware of the consequences?"

"I am."

Kakashi looked between the both of them. "Sensei?"

Minato sighed. "You're witness of this exchange."

He launched into a short yet intensive explanation on how storage seals worked. The theory might have been different, but the practice was the same. You got a prison, a prisoner and a jailer and unless someone destroyed the prison or brought the key to open the gates, the prisoner would remain such until death. Teuchi had looked confused and apprehensive, wondering where the jailer part fit in, and Minato had to restart his explanation from scratch three times before Kakashi interceded out of pity and helped along. Eventually, they managed.

Teuchi had nodded, and asked questions when technicalities had been brought up, and when all was clarified, he said, "I understand."

By then, the ramen had gotten cold and any appetite had diminished. Teuchi gave one calculating glance at Naruto before a smirk took place over the grimace that had adorned his face for the last half an hour.

"Nice to meet you, Naruto Uzumaki," he said and even patted the boy's head. "I hope you are very much as of a glutton as your mother."

"I certainly hope not," Minato said and Kakashi snorted. Kushina had been a voracious eater. If it weren't because their jobs paid well, they might have gone bankrupt long ago.

They were served another round of ramen—this, too, on the house—and were allowed peace for once. They finished it between idle chat as they laughed, and they shared old stories to take minds away from darker, heavier matters. Teuchi's smile was wane and non-confrontational when he addressed Minato as they prepared themselves to leave.

"Minato-sama, you're aware that if you want people to stop whispering," he said, "you should explain this to them."

Minato scowled, but nodded and said his thanks while internally sighing at the headache. As it was, that was not possible. Their education system revolved in training as many ninja as they could in the least time possible—a system that had worked during wartime, when soldiers were expendable but an ever demanded supply, and a system that was still needed for the time being. That had left the finer arts like sealing and specialized ninjutsu out of the curriculum. Besides, civilians were exempt of any ninja knowledge in fear the enemy would kidnap and torture them for information.

Transparency had never been a priority. Transparency meant weakness.

And by telling Teuchi what he had told him, he would need to inform the Sandaime and post a surveillance schedule on the man for a month at least in search for stray behaviors and write a detailed report stating the hows and the whats and the whens and the whys. Minato wasn't looking forward to it.

"Shouldn't the Hokage's word be enough assurance?" Kakashi asked, all frowns and thoughtful gaze.

Teuchi's smile wavered. "When it comes to my daughter? No, not really," he said. "Is it not common to care for people close to you more than you do for others? Although that might not what you ninja are taught."

It wasn't. Duty and missions always came on top. Leadership was not to be questioned. That was something ingrained all the way back in the Academy. But humans were still humans despite everything else and protecting those one held dear, at least, Minato could understand. Or he thought he did, either way. The way in which Kakashi nodded told him he did too. He was probably thinking of Obito and Rin and all the dead bodies left behind that could have been saved but weren't.

Minato wondered if headpatting Kakashi would be allowed. He was a boy, and he was distresses, and one did that with distresses boys that might have been family, right? He did with Naruto, when his cries were so loud they might have been a call for a missing mom he would never met. Jiraya had done that to him all the way back when he was nothing but a mere genin. Kakashi was no genin.

Instead, Minato asked, "Do you want to spend the night at my house?"

"I should report back to my supervisor," Kakashi answered, "and see if any mission's awaiting."

Minato stared at him. "I insist."

Kakashi looked back, unblinking. "Is that an order, Yondaime-sama?"

"…Yes."

Kakashi's lips twisted in what might have been a ghost of a smile. "As you order."

. . .

Night fell. They had spent the best part of the afternoon preparing the utilities for Naruto and filling the house with daily life necessities. They hadn't touched any of Kushina's possessions. Not yet. Eventually, Minato knew, he would. He just needed time. Time cured everything. People often said that.

Kakashi was given the guest room, and Naruto's cradle moved to the main room. They dinned salad, they fed Naruto his formula and chatted about what they had been up to the last two months. They wondered how long it'd take for Konoha to revert to the state before the attack. They conspired about Iwa and Kumo who had been suspiciously quiet, leaving them alone for the most par bar some trespassing into their lands. They discussed how the people were placated, their ninja still spirited and although grief and sorrow still hung heavy over their heads they finally could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

There was hope, embers that might have been put out but still burnt.

It had been nice. It had been productive. It had been a return to normalcy. And if they'd purposely ignored the topic of Kushina and Danzo and the mysterious attacker no one knew about, no one could blame them.

Once the clock stroke past bedtime, Kakashi stood idly at Minato's side. He still wore his ninja gear and mask. The shuriken and the kunai were still in his reach. He looked at his feet when Minato raised a brow in askance. It took a good part of a minute before he leveled his gaze on his teacher, expression impassive except for the barest hint of emotion behind his single visible eye.

He cleared his throat. "I'm glad you survived, sensei," he said.

Minato smiled at that, and boobed his head in affirmation, and bade him goodnight. The smile disappeared the moment Kakashi'd turned on his heels. Once he closed his room's door behind, Minato beelined towards Naruto's cradled. His son was sound asleep, peaceful, not a worry in the world while curling one tiny hand around his favorite frog themed mantle. It was different from the cries and the wheezing and the nakedness in the cold night he had lived through the night Kyuubi attacked.

He couldn't tell the boy it hadn't be his choice to survive. He had been forced to. If everything had went the way he'd planned, he'd be dead with Kushina now. Naruto would have to grow parentless and persecuted by hateful rumors, Kakakshi would need to add another name to the Memorial Stone and the mountain of his guilt, and the Konoha he swore to protect would be blind to the threats forming in the shadows.

It was Kushina who had bet for the win, not him.

Minato wondered what that said about him.

He trailed a finger through Naruto's cheek marks. In his mind's eyes, he could envision that world where he'd died, and his son would grow alone and confused and surrounded by enemies.

It was shameful.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Naruto stirred, bleary mirror eyes looking up at him before closing again. "I'm very sorry. I'll do better. I swear."

He needed to if he wanted to make up for the people he almost failed. He needed to if he wanted Kushina's dead not to be in vain. He had to.

It was a promise.

* * *

 **A/N:** Ever think how Kakashi was like thirteen when pretty much everyone he knew died and then think about how Naruto and co. were merely sixteen when they enlisted to a war and go "man, that's fucked up". **  
**

Also, all mistakes/changes in the timelime different to canon are yours truly. If anyone has the hope to guide me through the utter fuckery that is _Naruto_ 's timelime and ages, you sir or ma'am are fucking welcome to do so. Really.


	3. The Root of All Problems

**III.**

The Uchiha district had never been particularly friendly to outsiders—no ninja clan ever was when there were familial secrets to hide—, but the wariness Minato found the moment he stepped in its streets was unlike before. The other Konoha ninja families had been, at the very least, amicably willing to welcome him when he'd visited them. This one not so.

"Yondaime-sama, Father's been waiting for you," the boy said. He was guiding him through the streets, and if other members of his family whispered, pointed and not-quite-glared in their direction, he paid them no mind.

Minato could commend the boy's stoniness, young as he was barely making to eight-year-old. The boy even looked professional with his Uchiha symbol and sharp senses and he had referred to Fugaku Uchiha as father. Minato had heard of him. He probably would sign his genin promotion soon if evaluations and rumors were correct—another too young prodigy too talented not to be pushed to the front-lines.

"Itachi, right?" he said and the boy nodded. "Everyone speaks highly of you for what I heard. Your father must be quite proud of you."

"One tries," Itachi answered. He didn't sound all too happy.

"How's your mother and little brother?" Minato went on, racking his brain for what Kushina told him of Mikoto Uchiha. They'd liked to gossip about the newest models of swords. They'd liked to talk, to his horror, about him sometimes. Both women had hoped for their sons to be friends. "Sasuke, I think?"

"They're fine." To this, he sounded livelier. "Mother and Sasuke are at a cousin's now."

"Good to hear," Minato said, smiling. "And how's the clan faring?"

Itachi's answer was not as spontaneous this round. For the first time since Minato met him, his eyes darted to the sides and to the other clan member minding around as they stopped in front of the main house's gates.

"Father'll fill you in better," he said blandly. That, if Minato ever heard it, was code for 'not so good'. "He's inside. Good day, Yondaime-sama." He paused, hesitated a second before bowing. "It's been an honor to meet you."

Minato watched him go before entering the head's house. He was greeted to the sight of the leader of the clan Uchiha, sitting alone and with the tea prepared on the table.

"Good afternoon, Fugaku."

Fugaku leveled him with a gaze that might have been a glare. "Good to know you finally decided to come see us at last," he said.

"'U' comes late in the alphabet, indeed." Minato smiled politely. "The Yamanaka have it worse, though, since they will be the last clan in my list."

Fugaku nodded curtly and pointed to the seat before him. Minato sat, sipped the tea and wondered whether he should start the conversation by commenting on his son's good manners or the taste of the spiced tea. Fugaku was one of those kind of people Minato had never quite learned how to deal with: serious and reclusive and, most importantly, proud to the point of arrogance. Strange how the Hyuga and the Uchiha never quite got along despite all their commonalities. They could bond over their willingness to give the Hokage headaches.

"Is it true the one who caused the Kyuubi attack had the power to control the beast?"

He was also a man who didn't care for inanities.

"All the signs point to that, yes," Minato said. "He also had the knowledge to get in and out of the village without setting any alarms off. I thought Hiruzen informed all clan heads on this."

"He did, but you were there." Fugaku shrugged. "You're aware only the sharingan has the power over the bijuu."

"I do. Possibilities are being investigated," Minato commented carefully. This was not how he had expected the conversation going. He hadn't expected the tea's spiciness burning his tongue either. How could tea of all things do that, he didn't know. He wondered if it could be applied to weaponry. "How does this correlate to my visit which, as informed by letter, consists on ensuring Konoha's different clans' welfare?"

"Because people are also aware the sharingan is the _only_ method to control the Kyuubi," Fugaku grounded, his grip around the teacup tightening. "And they're not very pleased with the fact."

"Are you implying," Minato punctuated, "people have developed a beef with the Uchiha now?"

"I'm not implying," Fugaku spat. "I'm _stating_ Konoha's people are segregating us."

 _You_ _'_ _re part of Konoha's people_ , Minato wished to express, but that would only increase the headache forming at the back of his head. So, in its place he said: "Explain."

He did. The matter of the fact was people mistrusted them. There were no overt signs of this, but they had found that long-standing partners and allies hadn't been as companionable as of late. There had been blame to throw around as to who and why and how someone would wish to unleash the Kyuubi upon Konoha, and Madara Uchiha's story was well known. His reputation had preceded the clan. They had found more opposition, by the civilian population as well as work partners, in their job as Konoha's police force. Minato could have hold a silver of doubt on the whole debacle being overblown and another sign of a still recovering population if reports weren't shown to him. There had been an increase in misbehavior. There had been a decrease in cooperation with Uchiha units but no others.

Minato listened and frowned as Fugaku came to his conclusion.

"I have no heard of such." Then again, that would explain the guarded atmosphere he faced when entering the Uchiha district.

"You've been indisposed," Fugaku said mildly. He paused, scowled and added, "Now we're to deal with this. As if being in charge Konoha's policing was not punishment enough."

Minato blinked, surprised. "Your role as Konoha's police force is a privilege and a power many other clans wished to have," he said. It was true. There were strict laws on ninja clan investments on civic services to avoid huge power unbalances amongst them as well as the civilian counterparts implemented since Nidaime's era. Clans were supposed to gain their prestige through history and job achievements. The Uchiha's almost hegemony over the civil police work was one of the few exceptions, and a boom to their influence over the village too. "It's not a position of inferiority."

Fugaku huffed. "People _hate_ policing," he retorted. "It puts us in a position of hostility."

"People _fear_ the police who either abuse their power or are only present when tragedy strikes," Minato said. "And I know you not to belong to the former."

"What are you proposing."

Minato sat back. The headache had multiplied. The tea was now cold. These stuffy conversations always tired him out. He wondered how Naruto and Kakashi were doing. Kakashi had proved himself dependable enough to take care of a baby's basic needs—a leftover experience from their D missions as team surely—but he still struggled with everything else. Minato would buy him a new set of masks as an apology. Maybe the shop would still be open when he finished his business here. He looked down at the table, littered with reports, and then at Fugaku, who waited expectant like a hawk.

"Provide public services that are not only about preventing crimes but also improving daily life for civilians," he managed eventually. "I'll also hand a number of missions submitted by Konoha citizens to your clan. It'll prove as a show of trust to the public."

"You want us to play _nice_?" Fugaku sneered. "Help old women carry their bags, get family pets down from trees, help drunken men to their homes?"

Minato leaned forward. " _Yes_ , provide them with civic assistance," he pressed. "The public cannot be forced, and if the only opposition you offer is relentless insistence on having nothing to hide, even more reason they will believe there is in fact _something_ to hide."

"Is that why you have been parading your son around?" Fugaku snarled.

Minato clenched his teeth tight. He could feel the muscle of his jaw tensing and pulling. His hands gripped the teacup close. Answering to the obvious bait would not do. It was in cases like this when his patience as Hokage was tested. It was probably the least pleasant part of his job. He had vowed to defend and protect and help the people he had grown up with and learned to love—he could find pride in that. Putting up with disingenuous accusations and swallowing arrogant dribble of men who thought themselves better than others, however, was not part of it.

He stared. Fugaku sighed. His dark eyes softened a fraction, his stance, which had been taut and prepared, easing until all was left was someone who looked more tired than battle-ready. Only then did Minato allow himself to breathe again, though he did not relax into position. Fugaku grabbed the bottle at his side.

"You think too good of people," he said. "You're right: public opinion cannot be forced unless, of course, we squash it into submission." He filled both teacups with the same spiced tea and handed it across the table. Minato took it, mutedly thanking him. "But you forget people will only see what they wish to see. If they have made up their minds about us, nothing we can do will matter. I'm not willing to resign my clan and my people to them for that." His gaze was meaningful before he chucked down the whole cup down his throat. "I'm sure same applies to your son."

"Konoha's foundations reside on the goodwill of its people. Yours included," Minato said. "Renouncing it will but weaken us even more than we already are."

"What about when the will of the people turns poisonous?" Fugaku asked. He shook his head and added, "We'll do as you say, Yondaime-sama, but I hope you'll act as readily as you defend if matters turn to the worse."

. . .

Sitting again behind the Hokage's desk was akin to revising old sealing theory scrolls he hadn't read in awhile: you opened them up with nostalgic memories before the illusion quickly faded into duty and tedious work. It did not help that it required multitasking. Taking care of Naruto who at six months old to go seven had learned to roll over and stuff his mouth with the nearest object regardless of its salubrity had become an adventure of its own.

It was a working process to say the least.

"Naruto, please, don't do that," Minato pleaded. "Those're daddy's notes."

Naruto chortled, spat out his notes of a new seal he'd been working on and raised his hands towards him. Minato pursed his lips before sighing. He bent down towards the improvised crib next to his desk.

"Alright," he said, one hand picking the drolled papers and the other lifting his son. "Only until you stop banging against everything."

Minato wasn't sure if Naruto was even capable of even understanding him, but the way in which he laughed made him suspect the kid was well aware what to do to achieve what he wanted. He settled in his lap like king upon his throne and Minato saw himself forced to awkwardly lean forward in an attempt to reach the reports on his desk. His desk was a cluster of papers and folders. His recent notes had been rendered almost useless with Naruto's help. He pitifully discarded them, making a mental record to redo them with, perhaps, a more fitting name than 'Lighting release: Forceful Anaconda, Radiating Jolt'. Done that, he set to work.

Only it took no longer than a couple of minutes for Naruto to become restless. Babies, or Naruto at least, he'd discovered, had the bad habit of distracting. Their attention wavered from object to the next and as in tandem so did Minato's. This time Naruto's focus went to his own hands and the new ability he had learned with them. Minato swore off the day he taught him the clapping song. The books had said it was a good method to develop motor skills and coordination, but conveniently forgot to address the horrors it created in the middle of the night.

"That's right, Naruto," Minato said. "Clap your energy away." If enduring it meant Naruto would eventually fall asleep, endure he would. Besides, it was his responsibility. He just thought he would have Kushina to share it with. " _Clap, clap, clap your hands. Clap your tiny—_ _"_

The door to his office opened. In came Danzo Shimura with his stoic face and gnarly robes.

Minato froze on the spot. " _—_ _hands,_ " he finished, his voice little but more than a whisper as Naruto chortled at the new person. The part of him that still worked whispered that it was impolite of the man to strode in without calling first. The bigger part, though, fretted over the fact he could feel his cheeks burn red. "Uhm—"

"Yondaime," Danzo greeted undisrupted. Whether he ignored or hadn't noticed the show Minato was not sure. He expected the former. "I hope you fare well."

"I do," said Minato straightening up. "And so does my son. I appreciate your concern."

"A pity some don't share the sentiment."

"Quite."

Danzo's gaze shifted to the little boy. His expression was disinterested but Minato wondered what went behind that droopy eye.

"You've brought him to your job," he said.

"His usual caretakers aren't available. I took it upon myself to look after him as his protections is paramount, you may understand. And he doesn't disturb my job." Naruto cooed, reaching for another paper to shove into his mouth. Minato grimaced. "Much."

"I see," Danzo simply said. He didn't look like he saw anything beyond a breach in decorum and even then Minato doubted he could have with only a single eye. "Have you considered handing him to ANBU?"

Minato's smile was wane. "ANBU quarters are no place for a child," he said. Unless one wanted to train babies in the killing arts. It did, however, leave Naruto open to be approached.

Danzo scoffed dismissively. "Naruto Uzumaki is no normal child."

Minato's expression was stone and his voice ice, all embarrassment gone, as he said, "All the more reason to treat him like one."

"Cuddling him will only postpone the inevitable," Danzo said. He slammed his cane to the floor and, for the first since he entered the office, an emotion some might have described as exasperation cracked the surface. "All jinchuriki share the same fate as you may recall with Kushina Uzumaki."

Minato tensed and felt Naruto, who seemed to decide he didn't like the new person all that much, squirm against him. Minato wrapped a hand around him, squeezing his tiny shoulders in comfort. Danzo did not back off though. To him, matters of jinchuriki were matters of the state. Jinchuriki needed specialized training. They needed conditioning. They were, after all, central pieces in the ever fluctuating balance among the big nations. Treating Naruto as a common child despite his burden, Minato knew, was not an option.

Neither was treating him like a weapon, however, and Minato wasn't Hokage for no reason.

"As the father I will see how to raise my son," he said, "and as the Hokage I will decide what is most beneficial to him as jinchuriki."

Danzo didn't quite sneer, but his lips curled into something resembling. "Will you now?" he drawled. He approached the desk, his hidden hand revealing a stack of papers. "I came to hand the monthly reports. All is, so far, in order. Your favoring of the Uchiha with national missions seems to be paying off as well."

Minato didn't miss the implications behind. "However?"

"I only wonder how long before they consider themselves satisfied," he said. He sounded analytic. He was every inch the perfect judge of character. "Besides the response from other clan leaders at the apparent favoritism showed by the Hokage."

"I'll decrease on assigning those missions as the situation continues to recede," Minato answered. "Or do you have any other offer, perhaps?"

"I only propose to be more mindful of your position," Danzo pressed. He waved his hand in Naruto's direction. "Specially considering your son's condition."

"I'm thinking of the well-being of Konoha," Minato said firmly. Naruto yawned, and he hugged him closer. "As well as Naruto's," he added. "I can worry for both and neither are mutually exclusive."

Danzo straightened. He blandly stared at them. "Then we aim for the same goal, Yondaime," he said.

Minato believed him, that was the thing. Danzo Shimura might have been, sadly, a bit of a paranoid warmonger. Living through two Shinobi Wars might do that for some. His loyalty to Konoha was indisputable still. What Minato doubted was whether Danzo's loyalty extended to its inhabitants. The man had the bad habit of using people as pawns, discarding emotional well-being as weakness and spreading rumors of dangers that weren't there to raise an equally dangerous paranoia to his among others. His supposed involvement on Naruto's treatment among the common population was proof of that.

"If that's so, I'd welcome you as helping hand," Minato said. He would too. It'd certainly made things easier. Simpler. Danzo, whatever he thought of the man, was shrewd and dedicated and capable. It made him dangerous too. "Not as a shadow over my back."

"I see," he said. He seemed to say that a lot, Minato thought. "Nevertheless, I hope you keep in mind that the Uchiha aren't the only clan under your care."

"I will."

Danzo nodded, and Minato dismissed him, and once the man was gone he relaxed against his chair. He took to the papers left on top of the other files littering the desk. Danzo's reports were neat and comprehensive. Minato read through it with its meticulously chosen words in excellent calligraphy and paid more attention to what it did not say than to what it did. Everything was fine and functioning, and the recovery process was about to come to its head; except Kakashi'd discovered some in the ranks had started to lean towards Danzo's Root, which inadvertently lead to dissent.

Minato sighed, chin carefully propped on Naruto's head. "What a troublesome man, isn't he, Naruto?"

Naruto smiled tiredly , lids dropping to a close. Minato took it as an affirmation and returned the smile with one of his own.

. . .

Tsunade's office was disinfected and orderly and made Minato itch. There was something unnatural about utter neatness that never sat well with him. Naruto didn't seem to enjoy it much either if the way in which he tried to crawl out of the doctor's grasp was anything to go by. Tsunade, for her part, had entered her professional mode and took the whole affair in stride—except for Minato's topic of conversation. She hadn't cared for that much.

"Stay still," she said tsking. "I'm talking to you, Minato."

"Understood, I apologize." Hokage or not, one didn't go against doctors in their own territory, Minato knew that much. He leaned against the wall to stop the fidgeting and sighed. "But won't you consider my proposition?"

Tsunade sent him a wry glare. "I made myself clear," she said flatly. "I'll stay and serve Konoha as general doctor, but I'm not getting involved in any politicking. Go ask Hiruzen to fill the position of personal adviser. Or even Shikaku Nara. Awfully sharp that man, and he's loyal."

"Shikaku's already busy as Commander Jonin and Defense Strategist," Minato said. He watched her as the green glow on her hands extinguished and helped Naruto sit up. "And Hiruzen's sworn off any position."

"What makes you think _I_ fit for the job?" she said. She waved to the stack of informs neatly pilled on her shelves. "Nevermind I'm quite busy myself."

Minato shrugged. "It was sensei's idea actually."

"That old toad's known for bouts of idiocy, quite," Tsunade scoffed. She picked Naruto up in arms with more delicately that one would expect from muscles that could smash whole edifices down to crumbles. "Here, take him."

Minato welcomed his son into his arms quickly and lifted him and down as the boy giggled. "I do agree with him on this one though," he said. "You do fill all the credentials for the position."

He did and she did. Minato might have not been particularly close to Tsunade Senju beyond their shared acquaintanceship through Jiraya and Kushina, but anyone not living under a rock had heard stories about Konoha's Slug Pincess' abilities. She could provide invaluable advise and counsel with her extended knowledge as the granddaughter of the first and second Hokage as well as her past dealings as the general director of Konoha's hospital. Two thirds of Konoha's Council favoring her would also be an aid to his dealings with the old lot. That was an added bonus Minato could do with.

Tsunade rolled her eyes. "Flattering won't work," she said. "Anyway. All looks fine. Naruto's chakra system's more developed than what's normal, but considering what the bijuu's seal does, it's nothing out of ordinary. He should also start crawling and saying simple words soon." This time, the smile reached her eyes. "I hope you ready yourself for that."

Minato flashed her a grin. "Really?"

"Really," Tsunade answered teasingly. She ruffled boys hair, who chortled at the attention. "Naruto's growing up well and fast. The Uzumaki usually do."

Minato looked down to find a toothy grin and joyed blue eyes. The red swirl sewn in his tiny orange onesie was painful to the sight. Kushina had liked orange and red and no one could have stopped her when she got in one of her moods. Minato had let her be. He could never quite grasp the weight of clans and family and traditions—specially not to those who had everything stripped through war—but Kushina had cared and so had he. Until now. Now there was more legacy than he could do about.

"Which reminds me, I got to organizing Kushina's belongings," Minato said. It had been a slow process. It had taken months. He had convinced it could be left to tomorrow and then he convinced himself there was no hurry until one day there was too much in too little space. "Some of them are of Senju origin. Want them?"

Tsunade shook her head, nudging at Naruto's head. "It's his legacy more than it's mine now. Kushina'd want her son to know all about her too. She was the prideful sort," she said. She pointed to her necklace. "Besides, I got all the memories I need of my family."

Minato hummed in agreement. He wondered what he'd do with those objects in the meantime it took Naruto to understand their value. Perhaps he should seal them away in a storage scroll, out of sight and out of mind. Letting those trinkets so charged with memories litter their home was no option. It would be too suffocating. It would be too much of a reminder of things that would never pass to be.

He might have made a face then, because Tsunade's gaze was full of pity and understanding.

"It's hard, isn't it?" she asked. Minato needn't ask what she was talking about. Dan Kato and Tsunade Senju's tragedy was also a well-known story. He wondered how much of her perception was due to her own experiences or his obviousness.

Minato nodded. He didn't think the answer needed to be said aloud. Admitting to it aloud meant making it even more real, and Tsunade was subtle enough not to push the matter further. Request for an answer he had been searching for since Kushina's death, though, he could do.

"Does it get better?" he asked hopefully. Naruto tried reaching to his hair and Minato stopped him with a smile that was more grimace than smile.

Tsunade's lips thinned and her eyes fixated in the distance, far away from her perfectly arranged office. "No," she answered truthfully. She sounded sad and despondent and at brink of giving up. For all he tried not to, Minato could see bits of him in her. "One only learns to deal with it better."

* * *

 **A/N:** It's hard to write arguments about delicate topics between two character with vastly different viewpoints from an already biased narrator viewpoint and not demonize/stupidify one side but still keeping them in characters when the writer is just one person and biased as well. I, obviously, failed. Ha-ha.

Also, it's been a pretty shitty month in all aspects IRL, and it doesn't seem it'll look up any time soon, so next update is like in 'i dunno when if ever' stage.


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